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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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Wedlock 



SELECTIONS FROM THE BEST ENGLISH 
AND AMERICAN POETS. 



BY 



Prof, j) H." GILMORE. 



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\;^^Iq9S right '^^^Tj^ 




JUN 4 1881, 



BOSTON : 

HENRY A. YOUNG & COMPANY. 

i88i. 



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Copyright, i88i, 
By Prof. J. H. Gilmore. 






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The editor is indebted to the courtesy of Henry 
W. Longfellow, E. C. Stedman, T. B. Aldrich, 
and Parke Godwin (as the representative of the 
late William Cullen Bryant), that his selections are 
not, almost exclusively, from English or Scottish 
sources. 

University of Rochester, 
April, 1881. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

To my Wife 9 

The Night before the Bridal 1 1 

Epithalamion 13 

Marriage a Sacrament , . . . 20 

Like a Laverock in the Lift 22 

Plighted 24 

Hiawatha's Wooing 27 

A Touch of Nature 30 

A Pastoral 31 

She was a Phantom of Delight 35 

The First Lovers 37 

From " The Hanging of the Crane " .... 40 

The Ideal Marriage 42 

Laura, my Darling 44 



6 CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

A Song 48 

There 's nae Luck about the House 50 

Wifie, come Ilame 53 



A Kiss at the Door 



55 



She 's a winsome, wee Thing 56 

There 's a Woman hke a Dew-drop 58 

Inclusions ^ . . 60 

Love's Calendar 62 

Not ours the Vows 63 

An old Song 65 

Kind Robin lo'es me 67 

A Plea for Confidence 68 

Reconciliation 70 

Clean Pease-Strae 71 

If thou wert by my side, my Love 73 

Thou hast sworn by thy God ....... 76 

A Sonnet 79 

From "An old Man's Idyl" 80 

The Poet's Song to his Wife 82 

Dearer than ever 84 

From "The Miller's Daughter" 85 

The Future Life 91 



CONTENTS. 7 

PAGE 

The Life that is 94 

John Anderson 98 

Christian and Christiana 99 

O! Happy was the Gloamin' 105 

The Golden Wedding . 108 

At Fourscore no 



TO MY WIFE. 

Like those ambassadois of old, that went 
To the far orient land, with kingly gifts 
Of gold, so royal- rare and wondrous fine ; 
And jewels, from which a subtle spii'it looked. 
To nestle richly between beauty's breasts 
And crown her gorgeous bi'ows with winking 

flame. 
Or clothe her starrily as Queenly Night ; 
And found that land a garden whei-e they grew, 
Lavish as all the deivs were turned to gems, 
So bring I thee. Sweet Lady of my Love, 
My gems which I have garnered up — to find 
How poor they are beside thy peerless zaealth. 

Gerald Massey. 




THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BRIDAL. 

OW, what shady wreath wilt wear, 
Maiden — maiden ? 
Bid them bind the veil with care 
'Round the sunshine of thy hair ! 
Let thy brow be free from scorn ; 
Let thine eye have gentle light 
On the gentle marriage morn ; 
And so — good-night 1 

It is now the youth of May, 

Maiden — maiden ! 
Choose thou, then, at blush of day. 
Buds and blossoms, not too gay ; 



12 THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BRIDAL. 

And, behind their veiling sweets, 
Bashful be, 'midst all their light. 

When the tender lover greets ; 
And so — good-night ! 

Soon to-morrow will be here. 

Maiden — maiden ! 
Then, as hopes aye mix with fears, 
Mix thou smiles with pearled tears ; 
So shall he who loves thee feel 

Thrice his first sweet, pure delight, 
And nearer to thy bosom steal ; 

And so — good-night ! 

Barry Cornwall. 



EPITHALAMION. 13 




EPITHALAMION. 

AKE now, my love, awake ; for it is 

time : 
The rosy morn long since left Tithon's 
bed. 
All ready to her silver coach to climb ; 
And Phoebus 'gins to show his glorious head. 
Hark ! how the cheerful birds do chant their 

lays. 
And carol of love's praise ! 
The merry lark her matins sings aloft ; 
The thrush replies ; the mavis descant plays ; 
The ouzell shrills ; the ruddock warbles soft : 
So goodly all agree, with sweet consent. 
To this day's merriment. 



14 EPITHALAMION. 

Ah ! my dear love, why do ye sleep thus long ? 
When meeter were that ye should now awake, 
T' await the commg of your joyous make ; 
And hearken to the bird's love-learned song, 
The dewy leaves among ! 
For they of joy and pleasance to you sing, 
That all the woods them answer, and their echo 
ring. 

My love is now awake out of her dream ; 
And her fair eyes, like stars that dimmed were 
With darksome clouds, now shew their goodly 

beams. 
More bright than Hesperus his head doth rear. 
Come now, ye damsels, daughters of delight, 
Help quickly her to dight. 

***** 
Lo ! where she comes along with portly pace, 
Like Phoebe, from her chamber in the east. 
Arising forth to run her mighty race, 



EPITHALAMION. 1 5 

Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best. 

So well it her beseems that ye would ween 

Some angel she had been. 

Her long, loose, yellow locks like golden wire, 

Sprinkled with pearl, and purling flowers atween. 

Do like a golden mantle her attire ; 

And, being crowned with a garland green, 

Seem like some maiden queen. 

Her modest eyes, abash«§d to behold 

So many gazers as on her do stare, 

Upon the lowly ground affixed are ; 

Nor dare lift up her countenance too bold. 

But blush to hear her praises sung so loud. 

So far from being proud. 

Nathless do ye still loud her praises sing, 

That all the woods may answer, and your echo 



Tell me, ye merchants' daughters, did ye see 
So fair a creature in your town before ? 



1 6 EPITHALAMION. 

So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she, 
Adorned with beauty's grace and virtue's store ? 
Her goodly eyes like saphires shining bright ; 
Her forehead ivory white ; 
Her cheeks like apples which the sun hath 

ruddied ; 
Her lips like cherries charming men to bite ; 
Her breast like to a bowl of cream uncrudded ; 
Her snowy neck like to a marble tower ; 
And all her body like a palace fair, 
Ascending up with many a stately stair. 
To honor's seat and chastity's sweet bower. 
Why stand ye still, ye virgins, in amaze 
Upon her so to gaze, 
Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing. 
To which the woods did answer, and your echo 

ring? 

But if ye saw that which no eye can see. 
The inward beauty of her lively spright. 



EPirilALAMION. 1 7 

Garnisht witli heavenly gifts of high degree, 
Much more then would ye wonder at that sight, 
And stand astonisht, like to those which read 
Medusa's mazeful head. 

There dwells sweet love and constant chastity, 
Unspotted faith, and comely womanhood, 
Regard of honor, and mild modesty ; 
There virtue reigns as queen in royal throne, 
And giveth laws alone, 
The which the base affections do obey, 
And yield their services unto her will ; 
No thought of things uncomely ever may 
Thereto approach, to tempt her mind to ill. 
Had ye once seen these her celestial treasures, 
And unrevealed pleasures, 
Then would ye wonder, and her praises sing, 
That all the woods should answer, and your 
echo ring. 



1 8 EPITHALAMION. 

Behold ! whiles she before the altar stands, 
Hearing the holy priest that to her speaks, 
And blesseth her with his two happy hands, 
How the red roses flush up in her cheeks. 
And the pure snow with goodly vermeil stain, 
Like crimson dyed in grain : 
That even the angels, which continually 
About the sacred altar do remain, 
Forget their service and about her fly, 
Oft peeping in her face, that seems more fair 
The more they on it stare. 
But her sad eyes still fastened on the ground, 
Are governed with goodly modesty 
That suffers not one look to glance awry- 
Which may let in a little thought unsound. 
Why blush ye, love, to give to me your hand, 
The pledge of all our band ! 
Sing, ye sweet angels, hallelujah sing, 
That all the woods may answer, and your echo 
ring. 



EPl 1 'I/A L AMI ON. 1 9 

Now all is done : bring home the bride again — 
Bring home the triumph of our victory ; 
Bring home with you the glory of her gain — 
With joyance bring her and with jollity. 
Never had man more joyful day than this, 
Whom heaven would heap with bliss. 
Make feast therefore now all this live-long day, 
This day forever to me holy is. 

Spenser. 



20 AIARRIAGE A SACRAMENT. 




MARRIAGE A SACRAMENT. 

* 
ilNt) certainly, as sooth as God is king, 
To take a wife, it is a glorious thing. 
***** 
For who can be so buxom as a wife ? 
Who is so true and eek so ententyf 
To keep him, sick and whole, as is his make ?* 
For weal or woe she will him not forsake ; 
She is not weary him to love and serve. 
Though that he lie bed-rid till that he sterve.t 

***** 
A wife is Goddes gift^ verily. 

***** 
Marriage is a full great sacrament. 



His companion. t Till he die {sterlcii). 



MARRIAGE A SACRAMENT. 21 

Here may ye see, and here may ye prove, 
That wife is mannes help and his comfort, 
His paradise terrestre and his disport. 
So buxom and so virtuous is she 
They musten need6 live in unity. 
One flesh they ben and one blood, as I guess. 
Have but one heart in weal and in distress. 
A wife ? Ah ! Saint Mary, benedicite, 
How might a man have any adversity 
That hath a wife ? Certes, I cannot say. 

Chaucer. 



2 2 LIKE A LAVEROCK IN THE LIFT. 



LIKE A LAVEROCK IN THE LIFT. 




T 'S we two, it 's we two, it 's we two 

for aye, 
All the world and we two, and Heaven 
be our stay. 
Like a laverock in the lift, sing, O bonny 

bride ! 
All the world was Adam once, with Eve by 
his side. 

What 's the world, my lass, my love — what 

can it do ? 
I am thine and thou art mine : life is sweet 

and new. 
If the world have missed the mark, let it 

stand by ; 
For we two have gotten leave, and once more 

we '11 try. 



LIKE A LAVEROCK LV THE LIFT. " 23 

Like a laverock in the lift, sing, O bonny bride ! 
It 's we two, it 's we two, happy side by side. 
Take a kiss from me, thy man ; now the song 

begins, 
All is made afresh for us, and the brave heart 

wins. 

When the darker days come, and no sun will 

shine. 
Thou shalt dry my tears, lass, and I '11 dry thine. 
It 's we two, it 's we two, while all the world 's 

away. 
Sitting by the golden sheaves on our Avedding 

day. 

Jean Ingelow. 



24 PLIGHTED. 




PIJGHTED. 

INE to the core of the heart, my beauty ! 
Mine, all mine, and for love, not duty : 
Love given willingly, full and free, 
Love for love's sake — as mine to thee. 

Duty 's a slave that keeps the keys, 
But Love, the master, goes in and out 
Of his goodly chambers with song and shout, 
Just as he please — just as he please. 

Mine, from the dear head's crown, brown- 
golden. 
To the silken foot that 's scarce beholden ; 
Give a few friends hand or smile. 
Like a generous lady, now and awhile, 



PLIGHTED. 25 

But the sanctuary heart, that none dare win, 
Keep holiest of holiest evermore ; 
The crowd in the aisles may watch the door. 

The high-priest only enters in. 

Mine, my own, without doubts or terrors, 
With all thy goodnesses, all thy errors. 
Unto me and to me alone revealed, 
"A spring shut up, a fountain sealed." 
Many may praise thee — praise mine as thine, 
Many may love thee — I '11 love them too : 
But thy heart of hearts, pure, faithful, and true. 
Must be mine, mine wholly, and only mine. 

Mine ! — God, I thank thee that thou hast 

given 
Something all mine on this side heaven ; 
Something as much myself to be 
As this my soul which I lift to thee : 



2 6 PLIGHTED. 

Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, 
Life of my life, whom thou dost make 
Two to the world for the world's work's sake — 

But each unto each, as in thy sight, one. 

Mrs. Mulock Craik. 




HIAWATHA'S WOOING. 27 



HIAWATHA'S WOOING. 

HUS continued Hiawatha, 
And then added, speaking slowly, 
" That this peace may last forever, 
And our hands be clasped more closely, 
And our hearts be more united, 
Give me as my wife this maiden, 
Minnehaha, Laughing Water, 
Loveliest of Dacotah women ! " 

And the ancient Arrow- maker 
Paused a moment ere he answered, 
Smoked a little while in silence, 
Looked at Hiawatha proudly, 
Fondly looked at Laughing Water, 
And made answer very gravely : 

" Yes, if Minnehaha wishes ; 
Let your heart speak, Minnehaha ! " 



28 HIAWATHA'S WOOING. 

And the lovely Laughing Water 
Seemed more lovely, as she stood there, 
Neither wiUing nor reluctant. 
As she went to Hiawatha, 
Softly took the seat beside him, 
While she said, and blushed to say it, 
" I will follow you, my husband ! " 
This was Hiawatha's wooing ! 
Thus it was he won the daughter 
Of the ancient Arrow-maker, 
In the land of the Dacotahs ! 

y^ y^ ^ ^ ^ 

From the sky the sun benignant 
Looked upon them through the branches, 
Saying to them : " O my children, 
Love is sunshine, hate is shadow. 
Life is checkered shade and sunshine, 
Rule by love, O Hiawatha ! " 

From the sky the moon looked at them. 
Filled the lodge with mystic splendors, 



IIIAWAriLVS WOOING. 29 

Whispered to them : " O my children, 
Day is restless, night is quiet, 
Man imperious, woman feeble ; 
Half is mine, although I follow ; 
Rule by patience, Laughing Water ! " 

Thus it was they journeyed homeward ; 
Thus it was that Hiawatha 
To the lodge, of old Nokomis 
Brought the moonlight, starlight, firelight, 
Brought the sunshine of his people, 
Minnehaha, Laughing Water, 
Handsomest of all the women 
In the land of the Dacotahs, 
In the land of handsome women. 

Longfellow. 



30 A TOUCH OF NATURE. 



A TOUCH OF NATURE. 




WHILE the shop-girl fitted on 
The sand-shoes, looked where, down 
the bay, 

The sea glowed with a shrouded sun. 
"I'm ready, Felix; will you pay?" 
That was my first expense for this 

Sweet stranger whom I called my wife. 
How light the touches are that kiss 
The music from the chords of life. 

Coventry Patmore. 



A PA ST OK AL. 3^ 



A PASTORAL. 



SAT with Doris, the shepherd maiden ; 
Her crook was laden with wreathed 
flowers ; 

I sat and wooed her through sunlight wheeling, 
And shadows stealing for hours and hours. 




^& 



And she, my Doris, whose lap incloses 
Wild summer roses of rare perfume, 

The while I sued her, kept hushed and hearkened 
Till shadows had darkened from gloss to gloom. 

She touched my shoulder with fearful finger ; 

She said ; " We linger ; we must not stay ; 
My flock 's in danger, my sheep will wander ; 

Behold them yonder — how far they stray ! " 



32 A PASTORAL. 

I answered bolder, " Nay, let me hear you, 
And still be near you, and still adore ; 

Nor wolf nor stranger will touch one yeanling ; 
Ah ! stay, my darling, a moment more." 

She whispered, sighing, " There will be sorrow 
Beyond to-morrow, if I loose to-day ; 

My fold unguarded, my flock unfolded, 
I shall be scolded and sent away." 

Said I, replying, " If they do miss you, 

They ought to kiss you when you get home ; 

And well rewarded by friend and neighbor 
Should be the labor from which you come." 

"They might remember," she answered meekly, 
" That lambs are weakly, and sheep are wild ; 

But if they love me, it's none so fervent ; 
I am a servant, and not a child." 



--/ PASTORAL. 33 

Then each hot ember glowed quick within me, 
And love did win me to swift reply : 

"Ah ! do but prove me, and none shall blind you 
Nor fray, nor find you, until I die." 

She blushed and started, and stood awaiting, 

As if debating in dreams divine ; 
But I did brave them — I told her plainly 

She doubted vainly ; she must be mine. 

So we, twin-hearted, from all the valley 
Did chase and rally the nibbling ewes. 

And homeward drove them, we two together. 
Through blooming heather and gleaming dews. 

That simple duty such grace did lend her — 

My Doris tender, my Doris true ; 
That I, her warder, did always bless her, 

And often press her to take her due. 



34 A PASTORAL. 

And now in beauty she fills my dwelling — 
With love excelling, and undefiled ; 

And love doth guard her, both fast and fervent — 
No more a servant, nor yet a child. 

A. J. MUNBY. 




"A PJIANTOAI OF DRUG II Tr 35 



SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DE- 
LIGHT." 

HE was a phantom of delight 
When first she gleamed upon my sight 
A lovely apparition, sent 

To be a moment's ornament. 

Her eyes are stars of twilight fair ; 

Like twilights, too, her dusky hair ; 

But all things else about her drawn 

From May-time and the cheerful dawn — 

A dancing shape, an image gay, 

To haunt, to startle, and waylay. 

I saw her upon nearer view, 

A spirit, yet a woman too ! 

Her household motions light and free, 

And steps of virgin liberty ; 



3^ "A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT:' 

A countenance in which did meet 

Sweet records, promises as sweet ; 

A creature not too bright or good 

For human nature's daily food ; 

For transient sorrows, simple wiles, 

Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 

And now I see, with eye serene. 
The very pulse of the machine ; 
A being breathing thoughtful breath, 
A traveller between life and death ; 
The reason firm, the temperate will, 
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill ; 
A perfect woman, nobly planned, 
To warn, to comfort, and command ; 
And yet a spirit, still and bright. 
With something of an angel light. 

Wordsworth. 



THE FIRST LOVERS. 37 




THE FIRST LOVERS. 

WO of far nobler shape erect and tall, 
Godlike erect, with native honor clad 
In naked majesty, seemed lords of all, 
And worthy seemed ; for in their looks divine 
The image of their glorious Maker shone, 
Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure, 
(Severe, but in true filial freedom placed). 
Whence true authority in men : though both 
Not equal, as their sex not equal, seemed ; 
For contemplation he and valor formed, 
For softness she and sweet attractive grace ; 
He for God only, she for God in him. 
His fair large front and eye sublime declared 
Absolute rule ; and hyacinthine locks 
Round from his parted forelock manly hung 



38 THE FIRST LOVERS. 

Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad : 
She, as a veil, down to the slender waist 
Her unadorned, golden tresses wore 
Disheveled, but in wanton ringlets waved 
As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied 
Subjection, but required with gentle sway, " 
And by her yielded, by him best received ; 
Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, 
And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay. 

So passed they naked on, nor shunned the sight 
Of God or angel, for they thought no ill : 
So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair 
That ever since in love's embraces met ; 
Adam the goodUest man of men since born 
His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve. 
Under a tuft of shade, that on a green 
Stood whispering soft, by a fresh fountain side 
They sat them down ; and, after no more toil 
Of their sweet gardening labor than sufficed 



THE FIRST LOVERS 39 

To recommend cool Zephyr, and made ease 
More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite 
More grateful, to their supper fruits they fell, 
Nectarine fruits, which the compliant boughs 
Yielded them, side-long as they sat recline 
On the soft downy bank damasked with flowers. 
The savory pulp they chew, and in the rind, 
Still, as they thirsted, scoop the brimming stream ; 
Nor gentle purpose nor endearing smiles 
Wanted, nor youthful daUiance, as beseems 
Fair couple, linked in happy nuptial league. 
Alone as they. 

Mll-TON. 




40 '*rHE HANGING OF THE CRANE:' 



FROM "THE HANGING OF THE 
CRANE." 

FORTUNATE, Q happy day, 
When a new household finds its place 
Among the myriad homes of earth. 
Like a new star just spnmg to birth, 
And rolled on its harmonious way 
Into the boundless realms of space ! 



For two alone, there in the hall, 

Is spread the table round and small ; 

Upon the polished silver shine 

The evening lamps ; but, more divine, 

The light of love shines over all ; 

Of love, that says not mine and thine. 

But ours, for ours is thine and mine. 



" THE HANGING OF THE CRANED 41 

They want no guests, to come between 
Their tender glances like a screen, 
And tell them tales of land and sea 
And whatsoever may betide 
The great, forgotten world outside ; 
They want no guests ; they needs must be 
Each other's own best company. 

. Longfellow. 



42 THE WEAL MARRL4GE. 



THE IDEAL MARRIAGE. 




OR woman is not imdevelopt man, 
But diverse : could we make her as 
the man, 

Sweet love were slain : his nearest bond is this, 
Not like to like, but like in difference. 
Yet, in the long years, liker must they grow ; 
The man be more of woman ; she, of man ; 
He gain in sweetness and in moral height. 
Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the 

world. 
She, mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, 
Nor lose the child-like in the larger mind ; 
Till, at the last, she set herself to man 
Like perfect music unto noble words. 
And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time, 



THE IDEAL MARKLIGE. 43 

Sit side by side, full-summed in all their powers, 
Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be, 
Self-reverent each and reverencing each, 
Distinct in individualities. 
But like each other, ev'n as those who love. 
Then comes the statelier Eden back to men : 
Then reign the world's great bridals, chaste and 

calm : 
Then springs the crowning race of humankind. 

Tennyson. 



44 LAURA, MY DARLING. 



LAURA. MY DARLING. 



/ 
AURA, my darling, the roses have 



I - 

1 ^^/S l)liishe(l 

At the kiss of the dew, and our 
chamber is hushed ; 
Our murmuring babe to your bosom has clung, 
And hears in his slumber the song that you 

sung ; 
I watch you asleep with your arms round him 

thrown, 
Your links of dark tresses wound in with his 

own, 
And the wife is as dear as the gentle young 

bride 
Of the hour when you first, darling, came to 
my side. 



LAURA, J/V DARLING. 45 

Laura, my darling, our sail down the stream 
Of youth's summers and winters has been like 

a dream ; 
Years have but rounded your womanly grace, 
And added their spell to the light of your face ; 
Your soul is the same as though part were not 

given 
To the two, like yourself, sent to bless me from 

heaven, — 
Dear lives, springing forth from the life of my 

Ufe, 
To make you more near, darling, mother and 

wife ! 

Laura, my darling, there 's hazle-eyed Fred, 
Asleep in his own tiny cot by the bed. 
And little King Arthur, whose curls have the art 
Of winding their tendrils so close round my 

heart ; . 
Yet fairer than either, and dearer than both, 



46 LAURA, MY DARLING. 

Is the true one who gave me in girlhood lier 

troth ; 
For we, when we mated for evil and good, — 
What were we, darling, but babes in the wood ? 

Laura, my darling, the years which have flown 
Brought few of the prizes I pledged to my own. 
I said that no sorrow should roughen her way, — 
Her life should be cloudless, a long summer's 

day. 
Shadow and sunshine, tliistles and flowers. 
Which of the two, darling, most have been ours ? 
Yet to-night, by the smile on your lips, I can see 
You are dreaming of me, darling, dreaming of 

me. 

Laura, my darling, the stars, that we knew 
In our youth, are still shining as tender and true ; 
The midnight is sounding its slumberous bell, 
And I come to the one who has loved me so 
well. ' 



LAURA, MY DARLING 47 

Wake, darling, wake, for my vigil is done : 
What shall dissever our lives which are one ? 
Say, while the rose listens under her breath, 
" Naught until death, darling, naught until 
death ! " 

E. C. Stedma;;. 



48 SONG. 



SONG. 



H ! 'tis like a tale of olden 

Time, long, long ago ; 
When the world was in its golden 
Prime, and Love was lord below ! 
Every vein of Earth was dancing 

With the Spring's new wine ! 
'Twas the pleasant time of flowers, 
When I met you, love of mine ! 
Ah ! some spirit sure was straying 

Out of heaven that day. 
When I met you. Sweet ! a- Maying 
In the merry, merry May. 

Little heart ! it shyly opened 

It's red leaves' love lore, 
l>ike the rose that must be ripened 

To its dainty, dainty core. 



SOJVG. 49 

But its beauties daily brighten, 

And it blooms so dear, — 
Tho' a- many winters whiten, 

I go Maying all the year. 
And my proud heart will be praying 

Blessings on the day, 
When I met you. Sweet, a- Maying, 

In the merry, merry May. 

Gerald Massey. 



50 NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE. 



THERE'S NAE LUCK 
HOUSE. 



ABOUT THE 




UT are ye sure the news is true ? 

And are ye sure he 's weel ? 
"-^ Is this a time to think o' wark? 
Ye jauds, fling by your wheel ! 

For there 's nae luck about the house, 

There 's nae luck at a' ; 
There 's nae luck about the house, 
When our s^udeman 's awa. 



Is this a time to think o' wark, 

When Colin 's at the door ? 
Rax down my cloak — I '11 to the quay, 

And see him come asiiore. 



NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE. 51 

Rise up and make a clean fireside, 

Put on the muckle pot ; 
Gie little Kate her cotton gown, 

And Jock his Sunday's coat. 

Make their shoon as black as slaes, 
Their stockings white as snaw ; 

It 's a' to pleasure our gudeman — 
He likes to see them braw. 



There are twa hens into the crib 
Hae fed this month or mair : 

Make haste and thraw their necks about 
That Colin weel may fare. 

My Turkey slippers I '11 put on, 

My stockings pearl-blue, — 
It 's a' to pleasure our gudeman, 

For he 's baith leal and true. 



5 2 NAE L UCK AB O UT THE HO USE. 

Sae sweet his voice, sae smooth his tongue, 

His breath 's Hke caller air ; 
His very foot has music in 't, 

As he comes up the stair. 

And I will see his face again, 
And I will hear him speak ? 
I 'm downricht dizzy wi' the thocht, 
In troth I 'm like to greet. 

There 's nae luck about the house. 

There 's nae luck at a' ; 
There 's nae luck about the house. 
When our gudeman 's awa ! 

William Julius Mickle. 



WIFIEy COME HAiME. 53 



WIFIE, COME HAME. 




JIFIE, come haine, 

My couthie wee dame ! 
Oh, but ye 're far awa', 
Wifie, come hame ! 
Come wi' the young bloom o' morn on thy broo, 

Come wi' the lowin' star o' love in thine ee, 
Come wi' the red cherries ripe on thy mou', 
A' glist wi' balm like the dew on the lea. 
Come wi' the gowd tassels fringin' thy hair, 

Come wi' thy rose cheeks a' dimpled wi' glee, 
Come wi' thy wee step, and wifie-like air — 
Oh, quickly come, and shed blessings on me ! 

Wifie, come hame, 
My couthie wee dame ! 
Oh, my heart wearies sair, 
Wifie, come hame ! 



54 WIFIE, COME HAME. 

Come wi' our love-pledge, our dear little dawtie, 

Clasping my neck round and clamb'ring my 
knee ; 
Come, let me nestle and press the wee pettie, 

Gazing on ilka sweet feature o' thee. 
Oh, but the house is a cauld hame without ye, 

Lanely and eerie 's the life that I dree ; 
Oh, come awa', and I '11 dance round about ye. 

Ye '11 ne'er again win frae my arms till I dee. 

James Ballantine. 




A AVSS AT THE DOOR. 55 



A KISS AT THP: dour. 

E were standing in the doorway — 
My little wife and I ; 
The golden sun upon her hair 
Fell down so silently ; 
A small, white hand ujjon my arm — 

AVhat could I ask for more 
Than the kindly glance of loving eyes 
As she kissed me at the door? 

Who cares for wealth, or land, or gold, 

Or fame, or matchless power? 
It does not give the happiness 

Of just one little hour 
With one who loves me as her life — 

And says she loves me more ; 
And I thought she did this morning, 

As she kissed me at the door. 

"Jewish Messengek." 



56 SHE'S A WINSOME WEE THING. 




SHE'S A WINSOME WEE THING. 

HE is a winsome wee thing, 

She is a handsome wee thing, 
^ She is a bonnie wee thing, 
This sweet wee wife o' mine. 

I never saw a fairer, 

I never lo'ed a dearer, 

And niest my heart I' 11 wear her. 

For fear my jewel tine. 

She is a winsome wee thing, 
She is a handsome wee thing, 
She is a bonnie wee thing, 
This sweet wee wife o' mine. 



SHE'S A WIXSOME WEE TN/XG. 57 

The warld 's wrack, we share o't, 
The warstle and the care o' t, 
Wi' her I '11 blithely bear it, 
And think my lot divine. 

Burns. 




S^ A WOMAN LIKE A DEW-DROP. 



THERE'S A WOMAN LIKE A DEW- 
DROP. 

HERE' S a woman like a dew-drop, 

she 's so purer than the purest ; 
And her noble heart 's the noblest ; yes, 
and her sure faith 's the surest : 
And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth 

on depth of lustre 
Hid i' the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier 

than the wild-grape cluster, 
Gush in golden-tinted plenty down her neck's 

rose-tinted marble : 
Then her voice's music . . . call it the well's 
bubbling, the bird's warble ! 

And this woman says : " My days were sunless 
and my nights were moonless. 



A JVOMAAr LIKE A DFAV-DROP. 59 

Parched the pleasant April herbage, and the 
lark's heart's outbreak tuneless, 

If you loved me not ! " ; and I who — (ah, for 
words of flame !) adore her ! 

Who am mad to lay my spirit prostrate palp- 
ably before her, — 

I may enter at her portal soon, as now her 
lattice takes me. 

And by noontide as by midnight make her 
mine, as hers she makes me ! 

Robert Browninc;. 



6o 



INCLUSIONS, 



INCLUSIONS. 

H, wilt thou have my hand, dear, to 

lie along in thine ? 
As a little stone in a running stream, 
it seems to lie and pine. 
Now drop the poor, pale hand, dear — unfit to 
plight with thine. 




Oh, wilt thou have my cheek, dear, drawn 

closer to thine own? 
My cheek is white, my cheek is worn by many 

a tear run down. 
Now leave a little space, dear — lest it should 

wet thine ownc 



INCLUSIONS. 6 1 

Oh, must thou have my soul, dear, commingled 

with thy soul ? 
Red grows the* cheek and warm the hand — 

the part is in the whole ! 
Nor hands nor cheeks keep separate, when 

soul is joined to soul. 

Mrs. Browning. 



62 LOVE'S CALENDAR 



LOVE'S CALENDAR. 




HE Summer comes and the Summer 
goes; 
**** Wild flowers are fringing the dusty 
lanes, 
The swallows go darting through fragrant rains, 
Then, all of a sudden — it snows. 

Dear Heart, our lives so happily flow. 

So lightly we heed the flying hours, 

We only know Winter is gone — by the flowers, 

W^e only know Winter is come — by the snow. 

T. B. Aldrich. 



NOT OURS THE VOWS 63 



NOT OURS THE VOWS. 




OT ours the vows of such as plight 

Their troth in sunny weather, 
While leaves are green, and skies are 
bright, 
To walk on flowers together. 



But we have loved as those who tread 
Tiie thorny path of sorrow, 

With clouds above, and cause to dread 
Yet deeper gloom to-morrow. 

That thorny path, those stormy skies, 
Have drawn our spirits nearer ; 

And rendered us, by sorrow's ties, 
Each to the other dearer. 



64 A'OT OURS THE VOWS. 

Love, born in hours of joy and mirth, 
With joy and mirth may perish ; 

That to which darker hours gave birth, 
Still more and more we cherish. 

It looks beyond the clouds of time, 
And through death's shadowy portal ; 

Made by adversity sublime, 
By faith and hope immortal. 

Bernard Barton. 




AN- OLD SONG. 65 



AN OLD SONG. 

SONG full sweet as lovers need to 

know. 
Old-fashioned ? Yes. A hundred years 
ago, 
Her great, great-grandmother, with bitter tears, 
Thought of the writer, dead some twenty years. 
Sung first within the fireside glow, 
More than a century ago : 
'''' Sweetheart^ dear hearty I love thee so !'' 

Many long years ! Yet now those lovely eyes 
That make so real my dreams of paradise, 
Grow deep and dark, responsive to the strain. 
Look at that portrait. Is she here again, 
Who sang with quavering voice and slow. 
Nearly a century ago : 
" Sweetheart, dear heart, I hwe thee so /" 



66 AN OLD SONG. 

Long years. — But perfect love is love for aye ! 
The tender words are just as sweet to-day ; 
And joined in heaven those gentle souls may be, 
While my shy darling murmurs low to me : 
" We, too, will sing in fireside glow, 
Like them a century ago : 
*" Sweetheart, dear heart, I love thee so/' " 

Anon, 




KIND ROBIN 1.0' ES ME. 67 



KIND ROBIN LO'ES ME. 

OBIN is my ain gudeman, 
Now match him, carlins, gin ye can, 
^ For ilk ane whitest thinks her swan. 
But kind Robin lo'es me. 
To mak' my boast I'll e'en be bauld, 
For Robin lo'ed me young and auld. 
In summer's heat and winter's cauld, 
My kind Robin lo'es me. 

Robin he comes hame at e'en 
Wi' pleasure glancing in his e'en ; 
He tells me a' he 's heard and seen, 

And syne how he lo'es me. 
There 's some hae land, and some hae gowd, 
More wad hae them gin they could. 
But a' I wish o' world's gude, 

Is Robin still to lo'e me. 

Lady Nairne. 



68 A PLEA FOR CONFIDENCE. 



A PLEA FOR CONFIDENCE. 




RUTUS. Kneel not, gentle Portia. 
Portia. I should not need, if you 
were gentle Brutus. 
Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, 
Is it expected, I should know no secrets 
That appertain to you ? Am I yourself 
But, as it were, in sort, or limitation ; 
To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, 
And talk to you sometimes ? Dwell I but in the 

suburbs 
Of your good pleasure ? If it be no more, 
Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. 

Brutus. You are my true and honorable 
wife ; 
As dear to me as are the ruby drops 
That visit my sad heart. 



A PLEA FOR CONFIDENCE. 69 

Portia. If this were true, then should I 
know this secret. 
I grant, I am a woman ; but, withal, 
A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife : 
I grant, I am a woman ; but, withal, 
A woman well reputed, Cato's daughter. 
Think you I am no stronger than my sex, 
Being so father'd, and so husbanded? 
Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em ; 
I have made strong proof of my constancy, 
Giving myself a voluntary wound 
Here, in the thigh : can I bear that with patience, 
And not my husband's secrets ? 

Brutus. O ye gods. 

Render me worthy of this noble wife ! 

Shakspere. Julius Ccesar, Act 2, Sc i. 



70 RE CONCILIA TION. 



RECONCILIATION. 




S thro' the land at eve we went, 

And plucked the ripened ears, 
We fell out, my wife and I, 
O ! we fell out, I know not why. 
And kissed again with tears. 

For when we came where lies the child 

We lost in other years. 
There, above the little grave, 
O 1 there, above the little grave, 

We kissed again with tears. 

Tennyson. 




CLEAN FEASE-STRAE. Ti 



CLEAN PEASE-STRAE. 

HEN John and me were married, 

Our hading was but sma', 
For my minnie, canker't carlin, 
Would gi'e us nocht ava' ; 
I wair't my fee wi' canny care, 

As far as it would gae, 
But weel I wat, our bridal bed 
Was clean pease-strae. 

Wi' working late and early, 

We 've come t3 what ye see, 
For fortune thrave aneath our hands, 

Sae eydent aye were we. 
The lowe o' luve made labor light ; 

I 'm sure ye' 11 find it sae, 
When kind ye cuddle doon at e'en 

'Mang clean pease-strae. 



72 CLEAN PEASE-STRAE. 

The rose blows gay on caimy brae, 

As weel 's in birken shaw, 
And luve will lowe in cottage low, 

x\s weel 's in lofty ha' ; 
Sae, lassie, tak' the lad ye like, 

Whate'er your minnie say, 
Tho' ye should make your bridal bed 

Of clean pease-strae. 

Robert Tannahill. 



IF THOU WERT BY MY SIDE. 73 



IF THOU WERT BY MY SIDE, MY 
LOVE. 




F thou wert by my side, my love, 
How fast would evening fail 
In green Bengala's palmy grove, 
Listening the nightingale ! 

If thou, my love, wert by my side, 

My babies at my knee. 
How gayly would our pinnace glide 

O'er Gunga's mimic sea ! 

I miss thee at the dawning gray, 
When, on our deck reclined. 

In careless ease my limbs I lay 
And woo the cooler wind. 



74 IF THOU WERT BY MY SIDE. 

I miss thee when by Gunga's stream 

My twilight steps I guide, 
But most, beneath the lamp's pale beam 

I miss thee from my side. 

I spread my books, my pencil try, 
The lingering noon to cheer, 

But miss thy kind, approving eye, 
Thy meek attentive ear. 

But when at morn and eve the star 

Beholds me on my knee, 
I feel, though thou art distant far, 

Thy prayers ascend for me. 



Then on ! then on ! where duty leads, 
My course be onward still, 

O'er broad Hindostan's sultry meads, 
O'er bleak Almorah's hill. 



IF TIIOU WERT BY MY SIDE. 75 

That course nor Delhi's kingly gates, 

Nor mild Malvvah detain ; 
For sweet the bliss us both awaits 

By yonder western main. 

Thy towers, Bombay, gleam bright, they say, 

Across the dark blue sea ; 
But ne'er were hearts so light and gay 

As then shall meet in thee ! 

Heber. 




7 6 THO U HAST S WORN BY THY G OD. 



THOU HAST SWORN BY THY GOD, 
MY JEANIE. 

HOU hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie, 
By that pretty white hand o' thine, 
And by all the lowing stars in heaven, 

That thou wad aye be mine ! 

And I hae sworn by my God, my Jeanie, 

And by that kind heart o' thine. 

By a' the stars sown thick owre heaven. 

That thou shalt aye be mine ! 

Then foul fa' the hands that would loose sic 

bands, 
And the heart that wad part sic luve ! 
But there 's nae hand can loose my band. 
But the hnger o' Him above. 



TIIOU HAST SIVORN BY THY GOD. 77 

Though the wee, wee cot maun be my bield, 
And my clothing ne'er sa mean, 
I wad lap me up rich i' the faulds o' luve, — ■ 
Heaven 's armfu' o' my Jean. 

Her white arm wad be a 2)illow for me 

Fu' safter than the down ; 

And Luve wad winnow owre us his kind, kind 

wings. 
An' sweetly I 'd sleep an' sound. 
Come here to me, thou lass o' my luve 
Come here and kneel wi' me ! 
The morn is fu' o' the j^resence o' God, 
And I canna pray without thee. 

The morn wind is sweet 'mang the beds o' new 

flowers, 
The wee birds sing kindlie and hie : 
Our gudeman leans o'er his kale yard dyke, 
And a blythe auld bodie is he. 



7 8 TJJO U I/AST SI VORN BY THY GOD. 

The Beuk maun be ta'en when the carle comes 

hame, 
Wi' the holy psalmodie ; 
And thou maun speak o' me to thy God, 
And I will speak o' thee. 

Allan Cunningham. 



A SONNET. 79 



A SONNET. 




ET me not to the marriage of true minds 
Admit impediments ; love is not love, 
Which alters when it alteration finds, 
Or bends with the remover to remove. 
Oh no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, 
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; 
It is the star to every wandering bark, 
Whose worth 's unknown, although his height 

be taken. 
Love 's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and 

cheeks 
Within his bending sickle's compass come ; 
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks. 
But bears it out even to the edge of doom. 
If this be error, and upon me be proved, 
I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 

Shakspere. 



8o ''AN OLD MAN'S IDYL:' 



FROM "AN OLD MAN'S IDYL. 




H the riches Love doth inherit ! 

Oh the alchemy which doth change 
Dross of body and dregs of spirit 
Lito sanctities rare and strange ! 
My flesh is feeble, and dry, and old, 
My darling's beautiful hair is gray ; 
But our elixir and precious gold 
Laugh at the footsteps of decay. 

Harms of the world have come unto us, 

Cups of sorrow we yet shall drain : 
But we have a secret which doth show us. 

Wonderful rainbows in the rain. 
And we hear the tread of the years move by, 

And the sun is setting behind the hills. 
But my darling doth not fear to die, 

And I am ha})i)y in what (iod wills. 



"A.V OLD MAN'S IDYLr 8i 

So we sit by our household fires together, 

Dreaming the dreams of long ago ; 
Tlien it was balmy sunny weather, 

And now the valleys are laid in snow. 
Icicles hang fi-om the sHppery eaves, 

The wind blows cold, — 't is growing late ; 
Well, well ! we have garnered all our sheaves, 

I and my darling, and we can wait. 

Richard Realf. 




82 THE POETS SONG TO HIS WIFE. 



THE POET'S SONG TO HIS WIFE. 

]OW many summers, love, 
Have I been thine ? 
How many days, thou dove, 
Hast thou been mine ? 
Time, like the winged wind 

When 't bends the flowers, 
Hath left no mark behind, 
To count the hours ! 

Some weight of thought, though loth, 

On thee he leaves ; 
Some lines of care round both 

Perhaps he weaves ; 
Some fears, — a soft regret 

For joys scarce known ; 
Sweet looks we half forgot ; — 

All else is flown ! 



THE POETS SONG TO IIIS WIFE. 83 

Ah ! — With what thankless heart 

I mourn and sing ! 
Look, where our chikh'en start, 

Like sudden spring ! 
With tongues all sweet and low, 

Like pleasant rhyme. 
They tell how much I owe 

To thee and Time ! 

Barry Cornwall. 




84 DEARER THAN EVER. 



DEARER THAN EVER. 

H, no ! — not e'en when first we loved, 
Wert thou as dear as now thou art ; 
Thy beauty then my senses moved, 
But now thy virtues bind my heart. 
What was but Passion's sigh before, 

Has since been turned to Reason's vow ; 
And though I then might love thee more, 
Trust me, I love thee better now ! 

Although my heart, in earlier youth, 

Might kindle with more wild desire ; 
Believe me, it has gained in truth 

Much more than it has lost in fire. 
The flame now warms my inmost core 

That then but sparkled on my brow ; 
And though I seemed to love thee more. 

Yet, oh, I love thee better now ! 

"Blackwood's Magazine." 




THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. 85 



FROM THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. 



UT when at last I dared to speak, 
The lanes, you know, were \vhite 
with May, 
Your ripe lips moved not, but your cheek 

Flushed like the coming of the day ; 
And so it was — half-sly, half-shy. 

You would, and would not, little one ! 
Although I pleaded tenderly, 
And you and I were all alone. 

And slowly was my mother brought 
To yield consent to my desire : 

She wished me happy, but she thought 
I might have looked a little higher ; 



S6 THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. 

And I was young — too young to wed : 
" Yet must I love her for your sake, 

Go fetch your AHce here," she said : 
Her eyelid quivered as she spake. 

And down I went to fetch my bride : 

But, AHce, you were ill at ease ; 
This dress and that by turns you tried. 

Too fearful that you should not please. 
I loved you better for your fears, 

I knew you could not look but well ; 
And dews, that would have fall'n in tears, 

I kissed away before they fell. 

I watched the litde flutterings, 

The doubt my mother would not see ; 

She spoke at large of many things, 
And at the last she spoke of me ; 

And turning looked upon your face, 
As near this door you sat apart, 



THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. 87 

And rose, and, with a silent grace 

Approaching, pressed you heart to heart. 

Ah, well — but sing the foolish song 

I gave you, Alice, on the day 
When, arm in arm, we went along, 

A pensive pair, and you were gay 
With bridal flowers — that I may seem. 

As in the nights of old, to he 
Beside the mill-wheel in the stream, 

While those full chestnuts whisper by. 

It is the miller's daughter, 

And she is grown so dear, so dear, 

That I would be the jewel 
That trembles at her ear : 

For, hid in ringlets day and night, 

I 'd touch her neck so warm and white. 

And I would be the girdle 

About her dainty, dainty waist, 



THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. 

And her heart would beat against me, 

In sorrow and in rest : 
And I should know if it beat right, 
I 'd clasp it round so close and tight. 

And I VA'ould be the necklace, 
And all day long to fall and rise 

Upon her balmy bosom, 

With her laughter or her sighs, 

And I would lie so light, so light, 

I scarce should be unclasped at night- 



Yet fill my glass : give me one kiss : 

My own sweet Alice, we must die. 
There 's somewhat in this world amiss 

Shall be unriddled by-and-by. 
There 's somewhat flows to us in life, 

But more is taken quite away. 
Pray, Alice, pray, my darling wife. 

That we may die the self-same day. 



THE MII.LEK'S DAUGHTER. 89 

Have I not found a happy earth ? 

I least should breathe a thought of pain. 
Would God renew me from my birth 

I 'd almost live my life again. 
So sweet it seems with thee to walk, 

And once again to woo thee mine — 
It seems in after-dinner talk 

Across the walnuts and the wine. 



Look thro' mine eyes with thine. True wife, 

Round my true heart thine arms entwine ; 
My other, dearer, life in life, 

Look thro' my very soul with thine ! 
Untouched with any shade of years, 

May those kind eyes forever dwell ! 
They have not shed a many tears. 

Dear eyes, since first I knew them well. 



90 THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. 

The kiss, 

The woven arms, seem but to be 
Weak symbols of the settled bliss, 

The comfort, I have found in thee : 
But that God bless thee, dear, who wrought 

Two spirits to an equal mind, 
With blessings beyond hope or thought. 

With blessings which no words can find. 

Tennyson. 




THE FUTURE LIFE. 91 



THE FUTURE LIFE. 

OW shall I know thee in the sphere 
which keeps 
The disembodied spirits of the dead, 
When all of thee which time could wither sleeps, 
And perishes among the dust we tread ? 

For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain 
If there I meet thy gentle presence not ; 

Nor hear the voice I love, nor read again 
In thy serenest eyes the tender thought. 

Will not thy own meek heart demand me there ? 

That heart whose fondest throbs to me were 
given — 
My name on earth was ever in thy prayer, 

And wilt thou never utter it in heaven ? 



92 THE FUTURE LIFE. 

In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing 
wind, 

In the resplendence of that glorious sphere, 
And larger movements of the unfettered mind, 

Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here ? 

The love that lived through all the stormy past, 
And meekly with my harsher nature bore. 

And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last, 
Shall it expire with life, and be no more ? 

A happier lot than mine, and larger light. 

Await thee there, for thou hast bowed thy will 

In cheerful homage to the rule of right, 
And lovest all, and renderest good for ill. 

For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell 
Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the 
scroll ; 

And wrath has left its scar — that fire of hell 
Has left its frightful scar upon my soul. 



THE FUTURE LIFE. 93 

Yet, though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, 
A\'ilt thou not keep the same beloved name, 

The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye, 
Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the 
same ? 

Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home, 
The wisdom that I learned so ill in this — 

The wisdom which is love — till I become 
Thy fit companion in that land of bliss ? 

William Cullen Bryant. 




94 THE LIFE TJIAT IS. 



THE LIFE THAT IS. 

HOU, who so long hast pressed the 

couch of pain, 

Oh welcome, welcome back to life's 

free breath. 

To life's free breath and day's sweet light again, 

From the chill shadows of the gate of death ! 

For thou hadst reached the twilight bound 
between 

The world of spirits and this grosser sphere ; 
Dimly by thee the things of earth were seen, 

And faintly fell earth's voices on thine ear. 

And now, how gladly we behold, at last. 
The wonted smile returning to thy brow ! 

The very wind's low whisper, breathing past, 
In the light leaves, is music to thee now. 



THE LIFE THAT IS. 95 

Thou wert not weary of tliy lot ; the earth 
Was ever good and pleasant in thy sight ; 

Still clung thy loves about the household hearth, 
And sweet was every day's returning light. 

Then welcome back to all thou wouldst not 
leave, 
To this grand march of seasons, days, and 
hours ; 
The glory of the morn, the glow of eve, 

The beauty of the streams, and stars, and 
flowers : 

To eyes on which thine own delight to rest ; 

To voices which it is thy joy to hear ; 
To the kind toil that ever pleased thee best. 

The willing tasks of love, that made life dear. 

Welcome to grasp of friendly hands ; to prayers 
Offered where . crowds in reverent worshij) 
come, 



96 THE LIFE THAT IS. 

Or softly breathed amid the tender cares 
And loving inmates of thy quiet home. 

Thou bring'st no tidings of the better land, 
Even from its verge ; the mysteries opened 
there 

Are what the faithful heart may understand 
In its still depths, yet words may not declare. 

And well I deem, that, from the brighter side 
Of life's dim border, some o'erflowing rays 

Streamed from the inner glory, shall abide 
Upon thy spirit through the coming days. 

Twice wert thou given to me ; once in thy tair 
prime, 
Fresh from the fields of youth, when first we 
met. 
And all the blossoms of that hopeful time 
Clustered and glowed where'er thy steps were 
set. 



THE LIFE THAT IS. 97 

And now, in thy ripe autumn, once again 

Given back to fervent prayers and yearnings 
strong, 
Fio.n the drear reahii of sickness and of pain 
When we had watched, and feared, and 
trembled long. 

Now may we keep thee from the balmy air 
And radiant walks of heaven a litde space, 

Where He, who went before thee to prepare 
For his meek followers, shall assign thy place. 

William Cullen Bryant. 



98 JOHN ANDERSON. 



JOHN ANDERSON, 




OHN Anderson, my jo, John, 
When we were first acquent. 
Your locks were like the raven, 
Your bonnie brow was brent ; 
But now your brow is beld, John, 

Your locks are like the snaw ; 
But blessings on your frosty pow, 
John Anderson, my jo ! 

John Anderson, my jo, John, 

We clamb the hill thegither ; 
And monie a canty day, John, 

We've had wi' ane anither ; 
Now we maun totter doun, John, 

But hand in hand we'll go. 
And sleep thegither at the foot, 

John Anderson, my jo ! 

Burns. 



CHRISTIAiY AXD CHRISTIANA. 99 



CHRISTIAN AND CHRISTIANA. 

WRITTEN FOR THE (JOLDEN WEDPING OF THE HON. WIIJ.IAM 
E. DODGE. 




PHO has not read, — wliat man that ever 
loved 
Good English, pious speech, and vali- 
ant deed, — 
The rare old book in which John Bunyan proved 
His poet's heart alive beneath his creed ? 

Who has not in his fancy travelled long 
With Christian on that ancient pilgrimage, 
Shared all his fears, and lifted up the song 
After the battles it was his to wage ; 

Or with brave Christiana followed on. 
Choosing the path her lord had trod before, 
Until the Heavenly City, almost won. 
Shone like a dream beyond the River's shore ! 



lOO CHRISTIAN AND CHRISTIANA. 

— Well, 'tis a goodly tale, we think, and close 
The book we have from childhood read, and say, 
" The age of miracles is past ! Who knows 
The joyous saints, the pilgrims of to-day?" 

"No light," we say, "like that which was of 

old ! " — 
Yet still serenely shine the midnight stars. 
And there are wonders left us to behold 
If we but think to look between the bars. 

^Even now, before our eyes, his large heart warm 
With the fine heat that shames our colder blood. 
Stands Christian, in as true and living form 
As that in which old Bunyan's hero stood. 

Long since tliis happy pilgrim, staff in hand. 
Set out, yet not alone — for by his side 
Went Christiana also tovyard the Land 
Anear whose boundaries they now abide. 



CHRISTIAN AND CHRISTIANA. lOi 

Each day less distant from the City's Gate, 
Through shade and sunshine hand in hand they 

pressed ; 
Now combating the foes that lay in wait, 
And now in pleasant meadows lulled to rest. 

Early the Palace Beautiful they found 
Where Beauty, Charity, and Faith abide : 
The Lowly Valley little had to wound 
Their gentle hearts devoid of scorn and pride. 

The darker Valley of the Shadow of Death 
They passed, but with them One they knew was 

near, 
Stayed by whose rod and staff the Psalmist saith 
The toiling pilgrim shall no evil fear. 

And many seasons afterward they dwelt 

In Vanity's great city. There, apart 

From all things base and mean, they humbly knelt 

With prayer upon their lips and pure of heart. 



I02 CHRISTIAN AND CHRISTIANA. 

He, too, has fought with giants, — those that 

hirk 
In fastnesses of want, despair and sin ; 
By day and night he did his Master's Avork, 
Hoping a house not made with hands to win. 

And Christiana from the outset took 
Sweet Mercy for a guide and bosom-friend, 
And sought with her the poor in every nook, 
Giving as one that to the Lord doth lend. 

Together thus they chmbed above the pass 

Where from the Hill Delectable 'tis given 

To gaze at moments through the shepherds' 

glass, 
And catch a far-off, rapturous glimpse of 

Heaven. 

Sorrows they knew ; but what delight was theirs 
Led oftentimes where the still waters flow, 



CHRISTIAN AND CHRISTIANA. 103 

Or in green pastures guided unawares 

To trees of life that hung their fruitage low ! 

Now, ere the pilgrimage is ended quite, 
Its weariness forgot, they sit them down 
In Beulah, in a country of delight, 
And rest a season ere they wear the crown. 

Here, after half a century, they breathe 
Air fresh from Paradise ; and here renew 
Their wedding vows, while unseen watchers 

wreathe 
For each a chaplet, sprayed with golden dew. 



Blessing and blessed, amidst their household 

group 
Christian and Christiana here await 
Their summons, knowing that the shining 

troop 
Will bear to each a token, soon or late. 



I04 CHRISTIAN AND CHRISTIANA. 

And we who gather near, — ourselves too blind 
To see undazed the light of Heaven's grace, — 
Their well-loved visages behold, and find 
A bright reflected glory in each face. 

Edmund C. Stedman. 




HAPPY WAS THE GLOAMIN\ 105 



O! HAPPY WAS THE GLOAMIN'. 

H ! happy was the gloamin' 

When I gently wooed and won thee ; 
As through the shadows o' the glen 
The young moon smiled upon thee. 
Thy e'en were like the stars aboon, 

Thy step was like the fairy, 
And sweeter than the throstle's tone, 

Was thy soft voice, my Mary. 
Thy hand in mine, my cheek to thine, 

Our beating hearts thegither. 
And mair than a' the world beside 
Were we to ane anither. 

And now, as in the gloamin' sweet, 
When first my passion won thee. 



HAPPY WAS THE GLOAMIN\ 

I hameward come at e'en. to meet 

And fondly gaze upon thee ; 
Tho' locks be gray on ilka brow, 

And feet be slow and wearie, 
(), ne'er to me sae dear wert thou, 

Nor I to thee, my Mary. 
Thy hand in mine, my cheek to thine. 

Our beating hearts thegither, 
Whate'er may change, our hearts are still 

The same to ane anither. 



The gloamin' dim o' passing life, 

Is falling gently o'er us ; 
And here we sit, auld man and wife, 

Nor dread the night before us ; 
For we maun lift to Heaven the hie 

A hghtsome hope and cheerie. 
Nor fear to lay us down and die, 

And wake aboon, my Mary. 



HAPPY WAS THE CLOAA//N\ 107 

Thy hand in mine, my clieek to thine, 

Our faithful hearts tliegither ; 
^^'elcome the death to tak' the ane, 

Gin he will tak' the ither ! 




[o8 rilE GOLDEN WEDDING. 



THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 

LOVE, whose patient pilgrim feet 

Life's longest path have trod ; 
Whose ministry hath symboled sweet 
The dearer love of God ; 
The sacred myrtle wreathes again 

Thine altar, as of old ; 
And what was green with summer then, 
Is mellowed now to gold. 

Not now, as then, the future's face 

Is flushed with fancy's light ; 
But memory, with a milder grace, 

Shall rule the feast to-night. 
Blest was the sun of joy that shone, 

Nor less the blinding shower ; 
The bud of fifty years agone 

Is love's perfected flower. 



THE GOLDEN WEDDLWG. 109 

O memory, ope thy mystic door ; 

O dream of youth return ; 
And let the light that gleamed of yore 

Beside this altar burn. 
The past is plain ; 'twas love designed 

E'en sorrow's iron chain ; 
And mercy's shining thread has twined 

With the dark warp of pain. 

So be it still. O Thou who hast 

That younger bridal blest, 
Till the May-morn of love has passed 

To evening's golden west ; 
Come to this later Cana, Lord, 

And, at thy touch divine. 
The water of that earlier board 

To-night shall turn to wine. 

Daviu CIkay. 



no AT FOURSCORE. 



AT FOURSCORE. 




ES ! we go gently down the hill of life, 
And thank our God at every step 
we go : 
The husband-lover and the sweetheart-wife. 

Of creeping age what do we care or know ? 
Each says to each : ." Our fourscore years, thrice 
told. 
Would leave us young : " the soul is never 
old ! 

What is the grave to us ? can it divide 
The destiny of two by God made one ? 

We step across, and reach the other side. 
To know our blended life is but begun. 

These fading faculties are sent to say 

Heaven is more near to-day than yesterday. 

S. C. Hall. 



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